In late January, a 13-year-old girl and her older brother arrived at Romero House, a refugee centre in Toronto’s west end.

It is their last known destination in an odds-defying journey that began in North Korea, one of the most isolated and brutal regimes in the world and the country from which the siblings escaped.

They were supposed to live at Romero House for a year, but vanished after just one week.

“We were extremely upset when we couldn’t find them,” said Mary Jo Leddy, founder of Romero House. “(We were) concerned about what to do and very concerned about the younger girl.

“They were so young and so on their own, and probably from a culture where they were told what to do at every moment of their day — and didn’t know what to do when they were on their own.”

Leddy does not know how the siblings came to Canada or what happened to their parents, who are believed to be dead. She said they do not speak English, have no friends or family in Toronto, and have “absolutely no cultural coping skills.”

Last Wednesday, Toronto police released a statement seeking the public’s assistance in locating the 13-year-old girl, whose name is Sol Han. A photograph of the 4-foot-11, 90-pound teenager was released Monday.

Han was last seen on Feb. 10 near Bloor St. W. and Dorval Rd. but police were only notified on March 30 when she was reported missing by her west-end public school, said police spokesman Const. Tony Vella.

Han attended school for just a couple of days before disappearing, he said.

Vella said foul play is not suspected but police are concerned for her safety “due to her age.” Police believe she may be with her 20-year-old brother, Huyeok, who investigators have also been unable to reach. He is described as being 5-foot-1 with straight black hair.

Vella said Han has been in Toronto for a couple of years but was unable to comment on her immigration status. The Immigration and Refugee Board also does not comment on specific cases.

The only way for North Koreans to leave the Hermit Kingdom is as refugees, and the siblings’ mysterious disappearance highlights the presence of a small but growing North Korean community in Canada.

According to Immigration and Refugee Board statistics, Canada had 385 refugee claims from North Korea last year, up from just 26 in 2006. The acceptance rate is 69 per cent.

As many as 900 North Korean refugees live in the GTA, said Chris Kim, director of the Korean Canadian Cultural Association.

Kim does not know the Hans but speculates the siblings may have left for South Korea. He said some North Korean refugees who wind up as “missing persons” have simply gone to South Korea after finding it difficult to adjust to life in Canada.

“(There are) language problems, culture differences and there are no friends, no one is really helping them out,” he said. “So they’re still living in the dark, the life has not been changed much.”

Kim said underaged North Koreans typically come to Canada with their parents or grandparents, but sometimes teenagers flee on their own — likely because their parents were killed, imprisoned or sentenced to work camps.

“Either you die there yourself or you get out of the country,” Kim said. “That’s why you see some of these teenagers from North Korea living here.”

Since 2006, 28 per cent of all North Korean refugee claimants were under the age of 18, according to Immigration and Refugee Board statistics. It is unclear how many arrived with their parents or guardians.

Kim said the journey to Canada would have been a harrowing one for the young Han siblings. Most North Koreans escape by crossing one of the rivers along the Chinese border, usually during the winter when the water is frozen over.

Surviving the passage would mean eluding both North Korean border guards, who often shoot refugees on sight, and Chinese border guards, who routinely turn them back.

Recent news reports have said, however, that China is suspending its practice of deporting North Koreans, reportedly due to a growing displeasure with Pyongyang’s continued refusal to back down from international aggression.

Many of the North Koreans who make it to Canada are already burdened by debts owed to the agents or brokers who secured their passage, Kim said.

And when it comes to facing the refugee board, North Koreans often have difficulty proving their credibility, he said.

“Canadian immigration officials disbelieve they’re from North Korea because they come (to Canada by way of) South Korea,” Kim said. “There are no documents; the only way to prove is from their accent.”

According to Leddy, the Hans seemed determined to manage on their own and often failed to return at night during their short time at Romero House.

“We were constantly trying to find them. We think they got involved with some kind of group,” said Leddy, who could not elaborate.

Sae Yun Lee, a pastor with the High Park Korean United Church, said he translated for Romero House a few times and spoke with Huyeok over the phone in early February. At the time, the boy expressed he was anxious to find a place to live, Lee said.

He said the conversations ended abruptly when the siblings disappeared. The last time he called Huyeok’s number, another Korean man answered and denied knowing the boy or his whereabouts.

Leddy said her refugee centre has accommodated North Koreans in the past but none have been so young.

“I think they’d already been through a lot by the time they hit Toronto,” she said, adding their stay at Romero House “was supposed to be a year to get them settled and steadied but that never happened.

“They came and then they went.”

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